


Under My Skin

by akire_yta, Sparrowsverse



Category: Bandom, Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, M/M, Male Slash, Tattoos, skippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrowsverse/pseuds/Sparrowsverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a little shop in Chicago.  It was small, and had been around for ever, but no-one could ever agree where it was.  It definitely was never in the same place twice.</p><p>They didn't advertise, there was no sign. This was a place you heard about when you needed it most.</p><p>Mike Carden needed that shop to help him out now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quintenttsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quintenttsy/gifts).



> Co-Written with [Akire_yta](http://verbosemofo.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Written for the sodamnskippy xmas fic exchange the recipient is quintenttsy, who asked for: any kind of AU at all, cuddling, pining, didn't know they were dating, bff-ery, sarcasm, genderbending, angst, humour, angst and humour, crossdressing, skin writing and hair pulling/playing with. Any combination of these things would be AWESOME :D"
> 
> A last minute pinch-hit we hope this fic is what you imagined it to be!

***

There was a little shop in Chicago. It was small, and had been around for ever, but no-one could ever agree where it was. It definitely was never in the same place twice.

They didn't advertise; there was no sign. This was a place you found only when you needed it most.

It was where you could get tattoos done. All kinds of tattoos. It was also the kind of place where one could go for protection.

Mike needed that type of tattoo protection and he needed it now. He stopped in front of a red bricked building with large windows, he had no idea why, and studied the facade.

The curtains were drawn but Mike could make out light peeking through. There were runes carved into the frame above the door, but he paid them no attention as he opened the door and walked in. Lots of people used protection runes these days.

A bell above him signaled his entrance.

He wasn't sure why he had stepped inside, but a waif of a girl came out and smiled at Mike like he had a reservation. "Ah, there you are. You’re late. This way please."

Mike saw more runes carved in the arch as he was led under it and through to a maze of back rooms. The girl tapped on an open door. "Your two o'clock's here, finally," she told someone inside, and then ushered Mike in. The door closed behind him.

"Hello?" he called out as he glanced around. There was a chair with padding and a large wooden desk off to the side covered in drawing utensils and paper.

"Just a sec!" A male voice called back from underneath a desk.

The bare feet appeared first, and bare calves. The ass, when it worked its way backwards (and how deep was that hole under the desk anyway?) was clad in something floral and silky in blue.

When the guy sat back, free from the hole under the desk, Mike saw the top half was wearing a ratty old band shirt. The curly hair was squished back under a red bandana, and the guy was smiling. "Ah, so you're him. Come in, sit down." He held up his hand. "Just had to retrieve my pencil before it made another break for it."

Mike looked at the kid in disbelief. He looked like a guy who had rifled through his parents’ wardrobe to find the most clashing items to wear, and apparently didn’t care which parent who he took from. Though Mike had to admit, he had the legs to pull off a skirt.

The kid didn't notice or didn't mind the scrutiny. "Do you have any preference for placement?" he asked, pushing his pencils further up the desk.

Mike blinked. "Placement for what?" he snapped.

The tone had no effect on the kids' sunny disposition. "The protection mark. That's why you're here, isn't it?" He frowned for the first time. "Nic's usually not wrong about these things."

Mike drew his knife and his official ID, declaring himself. "How the fuck do you know about what I want?"

"Magic," the kid replied, barely glancing at either knife or badge, like they meant nothing to him. Mike could hear the 'duh' tone in his voice.

This was why he didn't trust magic, not fully. It was unpredictable and always unsettled him. But unfortunately, he needed it for his upcoming hunt.

The kid seemed to read it in his face. "So Nic was right? You need a heavy duty, stop anything thrown at it protection tatt? Well," and here he threw his arms wide, like a ringmaster introducing the next act. "You've come to the right place, my friend."

Mike tightened his grip on the knife in his hand. 

"Now, how about you put your sharp toys away," the kid continued without concern as he walked over to the large padded chair that reminded Mike of a dentist's chair. He patted the seat. "Sit down and we'll work out where you want your tatt." He smiled. "Also, just for future reference, no weapon will work here. This is neutral territory."

Mike blinked and tasted the air. There, on the back of his tongue, was the faint taste of mint and silver that he always got on neutral ground.

Slowly, he re-sheathed the knife, pocketed his ID. "Who _are_ you?" he asked.

The kid mimed going 'oops,’ and grinned. "Never did that bit, did we? Sorry, hazard of living with a precog. I'm Kevin, and I'll be your magical tattoo artisté for today." He sketched a little bow.

Mike couldn't help but snort and Kevin grinned wider as he patted the chair.

"Why don’t you sit down and get yourself comfortable while I grab the designs," Kevin said as he stepped over to the large wooden desk.

Mike watched him out of the corner of his eye as he settled on the padded chair. There were designs all over the room, drawings hung in simple frames.

"Did you draw all these?" Mike asked, feeling a tiny flicker of curiosity.

Kevin nodded, looking oddly proud. "It's my gift. I can't do any real, y'know, hocus pocus," and he wiggled his fingers and chuckled. "But I'm a wizard with the pencil. Literally." Kevin hooked a rolling stool with his foot and pushed it over. He sat down and handed Mike a sheaf of papers. "Now, I took the liberty of doing some preliminary designs, but we can work out a new one if none of these catch your eye. You have to wear it, after all, and the magical parts are pretty simple, so you may as well wear something you like the look of."

Mike glanced at the pictures and scribbles on the paper. "When I'm done, can I come back and get this removed?" He looked back up at Kevin.

Kevin glanced at him. "You could," he said slowly. "But it wouldn't be pleasant, and the spot would be a bit of a magical deadzone forevermore."

"Deadzone?" Mike asked confused. He knew he would sooner or later regret not paying more attention in his fundamentals of magic classes. "You can't just..?" He wiggled his fingers.

Kevin shook his head. "Easier to make than unmake stuff," Kevin said with a shrug.

Mike grimaced. That wasn't the answer he wanted.

"If you don't mind me saying, this protection tattoo will work even beyond this hunt," Kevin said softly, hands open on his knees as he hunched over a little. "It would be good to keep it in the long run for any future hunts." He shuffled on his seat. “Nic did kind of imply this was not a one-off event for you,” he added.

"I thought they were objective specific?" Mike asked, dodging the implied question. He'd been researching these kinds of protections before fate had him walking down this street.

Kevin scoffed. "An amateur's might be, yeah. I'm good at one thing, and this is it. It’ll work, for as long as it’s on you." 

Mike could tell it wasn't a boast. It was the confidence of a man who knew his craft.

"All right," he agreed softly. There was no sense of impending doom, so he had to hope it was the right call.

"Excellent!" Kevin beamed at him and gestured at the pages. "Now, what drawing captures your attention the most?"

Mike flipped through the pages. He stopped at one, all curls and curves. "That one," he said, mouth dry. He had been taught to trust his instincts, and they were telling him _this one, this man, this moment_.

Kevin took the page, fingers tracing over the pencil sketch. "Good choice. We'll ink it in white."

"Why white?" Mike asked confused.

"Better protection," Kevin grinned and then looked up and down Mike's body. "Over the heart I think would be best."

Mike may not have been trained in magic, but he had been trained to listen for lies and evasions. "I hear a ‘but’ in that sentence..."

"Ribs hurt a lot." Kevin admitted with a wry smile, and there was something fey and wild and _old_ in the expression. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

Mike snorted.

Kevin chuckled at his response and stood up. "Okay, remove the top half of your kit and we'll get this started," Kevin said as he went to go gather his tools.

Mike shrugged out his shirts. He left his amulets on, and Kevin didn't ask him to take them off.

He watched as Kevin mixed some shaving cream in a small bowl and then used an old-fashioned badger’s hair shaving brush to slather the cream on his chest.

Mike shivered. "Cold."

"Sorry," Kevin murmured apologetically and put the shaving tools away. He pulled out a straight razor, shiny and sharp. Mike forced himself to breathe calmly as a patch of hair was cleaned away and then the cream was wiped with a towel.

Snapping on a pair of gloves, Kevin started to mix his ink. "I'll also need a drop of your blood."

Mike paused. "It's okay," Kevin said. "You can watch it go in. And I'll burn the leftover ink before you leave."

"Okay," Mike agreed.

Kevin wiped the area he had shaved on Mike's chest and then pressed the stencil onto the skin. He carefully pulled the paper away.

He held out the cartridge of the ink and the straight razor. Mike pricked his own finger and let a drop of blood splash into the white ink. It turned pink for a second before settling back to its original colour.

Picking up his gun, which seemed old but well-cared for, Kevin inserted the needle and tightened it into the machine. Feeding the ink in, Kevin pressed the needle onto his stencil and began his work.

As Mike gritted his teeth and settled into the burn, he realized that Kevin was humming something. Was it a spell, or just a song? The walls of this place were so lined with magic it was hard for Mike to tell.

He watched Kevin ink the protection into his skin. The area around his skin grew red and hot, like a burn, as the needle from Kevin's gun rattled relentlessly.

It was almost hypnotic watching Kevin work and listening to the rattle. Before he knew it, Kevin was wiping the area down and bandaging it up.

Mike blinked and then glared, suddenly suspicious. "Did you slow time down?"

This time Kevin snorted. "That's a bit beyond my powers." Mike watched as Kevin removed the cartridge of ink and set it in a metal tray. A bit of liquid that smelled like lighter fluid was sprinkled onto the ink cartridge and then lit on fire with a match. Soon there was nothing left. “There, the ink and your blood is gone.” And he smiled at Mike, sunny and bright again.

Looked like the kid was good on his word, even though Mike had no reason to trust him. He was a stranger, a magical stranger at that, and Mike was on the hunt. But beyond that, there was _something_ in that smile that had Mike listening to his instincts once more. "You...you wanna go grab a coffee later?"

Something dark and sorrowful crossed Kevin's expression, dulling the brightness. "Love to, yes. But I can't."

"After you're done work then?" Mike asked as he pulled on his shirt and jacket, wincing as he felt the skin around the tattoo pull.

Kevin winced. "You, umm, ahh,” he babbled. “Oh,” he jerked, as if something in him snapped. “Let me just lay it out for you. I can’t. Leave, I mean. I can't leave. Ever."

Mike paused and frowned, putting the words together until they made a sort of sense. "What do you mean?"

Kevin sighed and pulled off his gloves with two sharp snaps. "Look, a long time ago I managed to annoy something very old and very powerful and very vindictive." He gestured around at the room. "And it basically cursed me to this place. I can never leave."

Mike went wide eyed. What kind of being had that kind of power...

"Look, we're done here," Kevin said firmly and stood up, straightening the folds of his blue skirt. The gesture was done like it was a familiar movement, one that Kevin had done a thousand times before. "You'll be protected for your hunt and any future hunts. I guarantee it."

There was the unspoken sense of 'please leave now'.

"Kevin," Mike said, unwilling to let the conversation go at that.

Kevin went over to his desk, back to Mike, effectively ignoring him. Mike frowned and went to move forward. He blinked and found himself at the front door.

The small waif of a girl materialized by his side. 

_This must be Nic_ his brain supplied.

"Kevin has asked you to leave," Nic said firmly. "If you have need of us again, you will find the shop." She gestured at the door, which swung obediently opened.

Mike hesitated. Nic favoured him with a sad look. "Here is a page for instructions on how to care for your tattoo," was all she said though. The page she handed over was handwritten, still gently but firmly ushering him towards the door.

He fingered it. "Is this _parchment_?" he marveled.

Nic just gestured at the open door with a small, opaque smile.

Mike grumbled under his breath as he exited the building. He glanced down at the parchment before turning around to ask Nic a question.

He swore under his breath. The shop had disappeared.

"I fucking hate magic," he complained.

* * *

He walked back slowly to the safehouse. Sisky was waiting for him. "Where were you?" He wiped his brow. "Don't disappear for hours, man, not now. I thought they might have got you."

Mike shook his head. "I'm fine, Sisk."

"Then where were you?" Sisky demanded as he glanced over Mike's shoulder, as if he was almost expecting something to have followed Mike home. "You've been gone all day, no word, no sign, nothing." Sisky wrinkled his nose and sniffed. "And you smell of spellwork."

Silently, Mike shrugged off enough of his coat and shirt to show Sisky the ink. He told the story, leaving out most of the more personal details. Sisky stared at him. "You let a stranger _magically tattoo you_?"

Mike paused. When put like that...

Sisky pointed at a chair inside their warehouse. "You are sitting your ass down and I am calling Butcher over right now to check you over.

Mike grumbled, but obeyed. He hadn't questioned it, hadn't really questioned Kevin before he'd let him tattoo him with...well, his own blood, but what else was in that mix?

"Sisk, it was neutral territory," Mike protested weakly.

"I don't care if it was the safest place on the planet," Sisky snarled at him. "We can't take any chances, not when we’re this close." He wandered off to call Butcher.

Mike got up and made himself a sandwich for dinner while he waited. He was a little apprehensive, but not as much as he probably should be. The ink, the design, it all felt _right_.

One of these days, his instincts were probably gonna get him killed. But he didn't think it was going to be today.

Butcher appeared in a haze of a teleportation spell. "You did what?" he yelled by way of greeting.

Mike just shoved half the sandwich in his mouth, turned around, and unbuttoned his shirt so Butcher could inspect the ink.

Butcher shot a glare at Mike before he peeled back the bandage. He whistled low and soft. "Whoa."

"Whoa? Why whoa?" Sisky demanded as he craned over Butcher’s shoulder to try and get a look at the design.

"This, I mean," Butcher said and held a hand over the tattoo. "White for protection, woven with your own blood. This is some serious old school tattoo protection. You can't find this anywhere nowadays. You can’t find the skills, let alone the right inking tools." Mike thought about the old-fashioned gun, the old-fashioned chair, but said nothing.

"Mike said he went to a red bricked shop," Sisky replied for him.

Butcher glanced up sharply. "You found the shop?" He pronounced the word like it was a formal title.

Mike nodded. “I found a shop. Do you know it?”

"Holy..." Butcher whistled, staring at the ink. "I can't even _find_ the shop, and I'd love to, just to sit and learn." He stared at the tattoo as if drinking in all the detail. His fingers twitched in the air an inch above skin, but he didn't touch. "Have you been to the shop before?"

Mike shook his head. "No, first time. Although..."

"What?" Sisky asked, hovering over the both of them.

"I was told if I needed the shop again I could find it," Mike admitted. "Why are you asking this Butch?"

"Well, for starters, your tattoo artist there pushed a bit of himself into the tattoo," Butcher revealed with a wicked grin.

"What?" Mike and Sisky yelped in unison. Mike craned his neck, trying to look at his own chest, at the new, still-red ink.

Butcher chuckled and leaned back. "Relax you two. It's harmless."

"No magic is harmless," Mike bit out. What had Kevin done to him?

"He probably wasn't even aware he was doing it. It's not uncommon in this kind of magic. Though..." Butcher’s fingers made another pass, and he smiled. "Though that would explain why you were told you could find the shop again. For most people, it's a one-time thing."

Mike frowned. "Less with the cryptic, Butch."

Butcher just smiled and buttoned Mike back up. "Let it heal, think about what you asked for beyond the tattoo, and if you still want more, go find the shop again." And in a puff of smoke, he was gone.

Sisky waved the grey smoke away, nose wrinkled against the fumes. "What the fuck did that mean?"

"I have no idea," Mike admitted and sighed. "Look Butcher said the tattoo was okay, even with whatever extra Kevin put in it. So let's focus on the hunt and then we can worry about it later."

Sisky looked at Mike. "Mike..."

Mike smiled at Sisky, showing teeth. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. Now, what have you found?"

Seeing that they weren't going to talk about the tattoo anymore, Sisky shot a glare at Mike but let it go. He he started going over the latest intel he’d uncovered. Mike felt the tattoo settle under his skin as he concentrated on the facts before him.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur of the chase and the hunt and the fight. Mike had, if not forgot about the tattoo, at least put it to the back of his mind, and there it stayed right up until their perp flung a killing spell at Mike, and it shattered against an invisible barrier about six inches out from Mike’s skin..

As Sisky knocked the guy out and cuffed him, Mike tugged open his shirt. The ink was bright, silvery like a full moon, but even as he watched, the glow faded as the tattoo settled back into quiescence.

"Holy shit!" Sisky breathed as he stood up.

Mike nodded as he buttoned his shirt back up. 

"I think you better find that shop again if it can do that!" Sisky pointed out as he pulled out his cell. “I might even face a needle for that kind of protection.”

"Let’s just book him," Mike replied, pointing at the downed spellcaster. He needed to focus on the everyday for a bit, steady himself before anything else.

Sisky nodded and called it in. It was less than a minute until the sound of sirens heralded the arrival of the squad cars that had been assigned as backup.

Mike went over and greeted the lanky figure in a battered tan trenchcoat who was climbing out of the lead vehicle. "Bill!"

"Mike! I see you got the bastard," Bill grinned ferally. "You and Sisky really wanna keep your record as our best field team for recovery, huh?"

Mike grinned and waved his hand in a courtly salute, a teasing gesture from when they were all cadets together. "We do try."

Bill chuckled as he watched two uniforms press a needle into the backside of the man Sisky cuffed, before they hauled him into the squad car.

"That'll keep him and his magic quiet," Bill said firmly. "Much safer apparently than the runed handcuffs we've been using."

"Butcher's spellwork works just fine," Mike said defensively. They had been using those cuffs for years, ever since Butcher developed them for the department.

"Nah, this guy’s slipped them once, and until we find out how, we're keeping him under lockdown the old-fashioned way." Bill watched the car drive away. "Come on, you two. Let's get your paperwork done and processing, then you can take a couple of days. You’ve earned them."

Mike was certainly down with that.

The next few hours passed by in a blur of paperwork, the general bitching and teasing from his fellow officers as he finally reclaimed his desk after being in the field for so long, and a cup of the hot but truly dreadful coffee that only the precinct could provide. Mike felt himself relax into the familiarity of it as he fed a bit of carbon paper into his typewriter and marshalled his thoughts.

His coffee was cold and he was on his third page when there was rapping on his desk. Mike glanced up from his typing and rubbed his tired eyes. "What is it, Sisk?"

"Time to go home," Sisky said with an exhausted grin. "Turn that off and go get some sleep in your own bed for once."

Mike waved him off. "Almost done this and then I'll go."

Sisky sighed, rolling his eyes. He had heard this before. "You promise only a few more minutes?" He didn’t sound hopeful.

Mike nodded, attention already drifting back to his half-finished sentence. He was barely aware of Sisky leaving his desk as he resumed typing. When he finally resurfaced, the room was dark except for a few desk lamps, and Mike sighed as he stretched. Finally finished. It felt good to put this to bed after so long on the case.

 _Home_ , Mike thought wistfully as he gathered his things and exited the precinct. He knew, taking this assignment, that it was going to be a hard job, lots of undercover work and little time to meet people who weren’t suspects. But he enjoyed his current work. It felt good to make sure the streets were safe from the nastier side of the supernatural.

Speaking of the supernatural, Mike thought back to the chase and the spell fired at him and how the tattoo protected him from the blast. He had never seen protective spellwork like that. He hadn’t felt a thing. 

He shook his head at the memory, turned the corner, and stopped in his tracks. In front of him, there was a familiar facade where he was sure there was a record store yesterday. Mike stopped and stared for a moment before hurrying across the street.

The doorknob felt solid and real under his fingers, and he pushed the door open slowly. "Hello?"

"Hello stranger," a soft female voice murmured. Mike spun around as Nic stepped out of the shadows. "How's the new ink holding up?"

"Well, it deflected a killing spell earlier today," Mike tried to go for casual. From Nic’s smirk, he’d say he wasn’t succeeding very well.

"Well, then,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Given you’re still alive and walking around, I'd say it held up very well.” She drifted closer. "Though I think that's not why our door opened to you tonight." She sized him up, and her smile softened and warmed. "Down the hall, last door on the right. Go right in."

Mike nodded at her in thanks and went down the hallway, following Nic's directions.

It barely took a minute to find Kevin's office again, but Kevin himself was nowhere to be found.

"Just a second!" Kevin's voice called out from under his desk.

Mike covered his snort. Guess the pencil went wandering again.

This time when Kevin wiggled his way out from under his desk, the red bandana was still present, as was the ratty band shirt, but this time he was wearing a white silk skirt covered in various coloured ink splotches.

"Why skirts?" he asked. He hadn't meant to open with that, it had just come out.

Kevin blinked at him. "They're comfy," he said at last with a shrug. "Wasn't expecting to see you. We usually don't get repeat customers."

"Not sure if I'm a repeat customer actually," Mike said as he tried to keep his eyes on Kevin's face. Magical tattoo artists who liked skirts weren't the weirdest thing he had come across in his life.

Kevin just raised an eyebrow.

Mike undid his shirt and exposed the healed tattoo. Kevin made a delighted noise and came over to inspect.

"This turned out really well!" Kevin said as he traced his fingers over the slightly raised skin. His touch was warm and gentle. "I never get to see the healed, finished product,” he said wistfully.

Mike shivered at Kevin's touch. "That’s not really why I'm showing you this."

"Oh?" Kevin asked absently as he continued to trace the ink.

"My friend Butcher, he’s a magic consultant, and another friend of mine got him to inspect your work," Mike began. Kevin looked like he was going to protest so Mike held up his hand. "I knew your work was solid but friends worry."

Kevin deflated at that and looked sad. "Yes, they do." He sounded wistful.

"But back to my original point, Butcher said he found something in your artwork."

Kevin's look of bafflement was too honest to be feigned. And Mike knew now what was woven into the ink, pressed under his skin.

Mike trusted his instincts. "Tell me no if i've got this wrong," he murmured and leaned in, pausing when their lips were only millimeters apart. He could feel the heat of Kevin's exhaled breath.

Then Kevin pressed upwards so their lips were touching and Mike melted into the kiss.

Mike's hands found their way to Kevin's hips, and the feel of silk running like water over strong thighs was surprisingly intoxicating.

Kevin smiled dopily at Mike. "That...that was very nice,” he said, wincing at his own words. “But, I'm stuck in this bottle and you're not and..." he shook his head and made to pull away.

Mike made a grab for him as a wolf whistle from Nic split the air. "Did you not feel that, sweetheart? Or did Mike here really rock your world?"

Kevin paused, head cocked and eyes defocused. "What...wait, where is...it's gone?"

"It's gone!" Nic said excitedly. “The binding spell dissolved!”

Kevin's eyes widened. "Impossible, she said..."

Nic just laughed with joy and ran out the room and down the hall. Kevin followed into the corridor and stared at Nic as she ran through the outer door and into the street beyond. The expression on his face made it seem like she'd run through the wall or something else extraordinary.

Mike took half a step towards Kevin. "Hey," he said quietly. "Remember I asked if we could go get a coffee or something sometime? How's now for sometime?"

Kevin reached out blindly and Mike took his hand. Together they walked up the corridor, stopping just this side of the open door. Closing his eyes, Kevin stepped over the threshold and didn't feel a thing. No pressure, no barrier, no recoil. Just fresh air on his skin. 

Opening them, Kevin glanced around in wonder. "Wow."

Mike grinned and squeezed Kevin's hand. "Welcome to the outside."

Kevin was about to say something when a car passed them by, speeding. Kevin leapt backwards from the kerb and plastered himself against the nearest wall. His eyes were wide as pointed at it. "What in the world is that?"

"What, the car?" Mike's eyes narrowed. "How long have you been locked in the little house on the astral plane, anyway?"

"Not sure. Definitely before those infernal machines were tearing around," Kevin cried, eyes wide as he stared in wonder at a typical Chicago street.

Mike laughed, suddenly and completely charmed. He slung his arm over Kevin's shoulder and wasn't shrugged off. "Kevin," he said with pure sincerity. "Let me show you the world."

Fin.


End file.
